Go To Hell, It's Summer!

Parenting’s Unexpected Gift

As we walk into the old, sprawling new and used bookstore to join their monthly book club for the first time, I can feel the eyes of the group on us, their curiosity plain, though they are generous of spirit and welcoming. It will be four more months before one of them works up the nerve to ask how we know each other, trying to decipher our relationship. We make an odd pair, I suppose.

Jan is the older of us two. Same age as my own mom, in fact. She exudes warmth and acceptance, which draws people to her. Then they become smitten by her wit, intelligence and self-deprecating grace. She is also, to use her word, “butch.” Everything she wears was purchased in the men’s department. She’s got a wallet in the back pocket of her Carhartt pants. Her ears, however, dangle silver Native American art. She once lived on a reservation in Montana where she worked with Native Americans and their culture has held sway in her heart ever since.

I, on the other hand, am younger, dressed in unfussy, but feminine clothes. I’m happy if I’ve managed to put on make up, though I never wear earrings. I falsely advertise as sweet and docile. Jan and I still laugh, after all these years, about her mistaken first impression of me. When I am vigorously and emphatically stating my opinion, which I am constantly wont to do, she will laugh and say, “ was I ever wrong about you.” When we first met she recalls feeling sorry for me, I looked so downtrodden and meek to her (I was violently ill with a pregnancy at the time). Now she never pities me, she knows better, but she frequently pities my husband. I am fiery, opinionated, but possess a fairly good intuition.

So, you see, as we walk in to the bookstore with our heads bent toward each other, deep in conversation, we create an “odd pair” first impression. When we are finally queried about our relationship, how we know each other, Jan answers simply, “we have kids the same age.” They admit they had several theories worked out, thinking the most likely was that Jan was my mother in law. Nope. She is one of my dearest friends. And that came to be because we are both parents. Jan and her partner Nancy are raising two teenage boys and I three girls and a boy.

This is the magic of parenting. It connects us in a common joy and struggle. And in some cases it breaks down barriers. I never would have come to know Jan without our shared journey of parenthood. Oh, how much I would have missed. Initially, she counted on me for information such as which days the kids had no school and when they needed to register for kindergarten (coming to parenting a little later than usual, these things were mysteries to Jan and Nancy). These days we count on each other for everything, from the practical (can you pick Xander up from school for me?) to the fun (my house is empty, want to come watch a movie?) to the vital (ranting about our partners when it is warranted and pounding out solutions to parenting dilemmas). I’ll be grateful always for this unexpected gift of parenting- a friendship that will fill my life and days long after the kids have grown and left.